South of Superior - Ellen Airgood [23]
Then Emil pulled Up and went in the store and Greyson had a brilliant idea. He’d go home with Emil, and Emil would help him catch some food. Like rabbits, or birds. Maybe a whole deer. Emil was a hunter, he hunted all year round, everybody knew that. Emil was an old man, too—ancient, practically—so he would know everything. Plus he didn’t have much of anything. He lived in a little tiny camping trailer from the olden days and drove a rusty old truck that was from the olden days too, and he was funny. Odd, kind of. Not bad odd, not scary, just different from most regular people. He was the kind of person who would have to hunt to get himself food, so he would for sure be really good at it.
But what if he didn’t feel like teaching Greyson hunting stuff? What if he thought he was too little to Use a gun or something?
Greyson decided the best thing to do would be to stow away in the back of Emil’s truck, and then just show Up at his door. It’d be hard for Emil to say no. And then pretty soon, after they hunted something down, he’d be going home with a bunch of food and his mom wouldn’t be complaining to everyone about how Unfair and terrible everything was.
That was basically how things worked out. Emil drove home and went into his trailer and Greyson followed him Up the steps a minute later. Emil was surprised to find him there, but he didn’t worry about it. He knew Greyson, knew Randi, had known Randi’s mother and grandmother too. It didn’t dawn on him to puzzle out how Greyson had managed to get to his place, which was a good couple of miles out of town, or to wonder what had prompted this sudden interest. The boy wanted to learn to hunt. That was just natural. Emil wasn’t a great one for questioning the events that life laid out before him. He whistled Up his beagle, Sal, pulled his knitted chook down over his ears, loaded his gun, and slammed the trailer door shut behind them.
They were just coming back—empty-handed—when Paul Garceau pulled Up in his big old boat. It was quite the day for visitors.
“Hey, Emil,” Paul said, easing out of the car, careful with that bad leg of his like always. “I see Greyson’s here.”
“Yup. We just been out scouting around for rabbits, but we didn’t find nothing.”
“We’re going tomorrow, too,” Greyson said. “I’m going to learn how to shoot a gun.”
“Well, now, slow down there, boy. I said maybe we’d do a little target practice.”
Greyson grimaced. “We have to. I have to catch some food for my mom and me.”
A woman had climbed out of the car to stand beside Paul and the two of them glanced at each other. Well, now, Emil thought to himself, squinting. If that ain’t Joe Stone’s granddaughter come back to town finally, I’ll eat my hat. Looks just like her great-grandma.
Paul ran a hand through his hair and then he said, “The thing is, Greyson, your mom’s pretty worried. She didn’t know where you got off to.”
Emil turned to gaze at Greyson, realizing for the first time that the kid had got himself Up here without anyone’s leave.
Greyson looked startled, and then worried. He bit his lip. “Oh.”
“How about we go back to the Trackside and we can get this sorted out?”
“Okay, Mr. Garceau,” Greyson said. He looked Up at Emil. “Thank you for taking me out hunting, Mr. Sainio.”
Emil was surprised to hear himself referred to as Mr. Sainio, but he nodded and said sure, they’d go again sometime, but he’d better get his ma’s permission first.
Madeline and Paul and Greyson climbed back into the car, Greyson wedged on the shifter between the seats. Madeline was so relieved she felt shaky. The boy was found, he wasn’t hurt, he was going back to his mother, who—useless as she might